Dysfunctional
by Queen Kordeilia
Summary: As the title says, D-Y-S-F-U-N-C-T-I-O-N-A-L. It's the only way to describe Connie's life, really.
1. Valves to Vagrants

**A/N: I wrote this aaaaaages ago, back when Sam was still in the show. Connie and Zoe are so OOC here, it's ridiculous. I don't know what I was thinking.**

 **Anyways, this picks up from where S28E31 'Valves to Vagrants' left off.**

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Flipping through her thick and black leather-bound planner, Connie fought to keep the smirk off her face as she chanced a glance towards the woman sat at the desk adjacent to the sofa she was sat on. Zoe _hated_ her. It was glaringly obvious from the moment they met, what with the way she ran off to find Guy in a failed attempt to get rid of her, and then the cold, almost dismissive way she treated her after realising that Connie was here to stay. Connie didn't care though. She wasn't here to make friends.

She shook her head, looking back down at the planner and scanning through the scruffy yet somewhat elegant scrawl. Much like herself, Connie's to do list was succinct and to the point, all about work, the only reference to a social life being tonight's dinner with Guy (which was more of a meeting than a social call anyway). She knew she had a lunch date with some old colleague the following week - something she'd almost certainly end up cancelling - but other than that, she had no plans of sitting down with someone outside of work and having a little chat.

Connie's thought process was interrupted by her mobile phone going off, drawing a sigh from Zoe who was no doubt in the middle of something important. For a moment, Connie considered letting the phone continue to ring but then decided against it; for all she wanted Zoe's throne, jeopardising the department was not the way to get it. After about five seconds of rummaging through her belongings, she located her mobile and looked at the caller ID.

Sam.

Honestly, she should have known from the international ringing tone. Connie received the call, not bothering to leave the office for privacy. Where would she go? There were even more people stood outside, making all sorts of noise, and she doubted Zoe really cared about her private matters enough to eavesdrop.

"Hello," she said quietly yet confidently, the corners of her lips twitching. She _wasn't_ going to smile. "Finally remembered us lowly NHS medics then?" What would've normally come off as a gripe instead came off as playful, and she wasn't entirely sure that it was involuntary. She was vaguely aware of Zoe watching her but was distracted by the sound of Sam's voice.

"Why? Were you waiting for me to call?" he asked, sounding as cocky and flirtatious as ever.

She rolled her eyes, ignoring the fluttering in her chest (something that happened almost every time they did this), and made a smooth recovery, "I just wanted to get this out of the way so I could move on to the more _important_ things."

"Like what?" The tone of his voice, as well as the scoff that followed, clearly indicated that he didn't believe Connie had something better to do than listen to him talk. The _arrogance_ of the man.

"Like dinner with a friend," she countered, keeping her voice calm. Sam really didn't need to know how much he irritated her. It would only serve to make him happy. "A very _good_ friend," she added for good measure. He never could respond to such a statement without sounding horribly jealous.

"Good for you," he replied quickly. Connie smirked. She could only imagine the look on his face right now. "Anyway, I just thought I'd sort the whole Easter situation out with you during my lunch break. I haven't seen Gracie since New Year's. I miss her."

She softened at his words, the irritation she felt at him momentarily forgotten. While Sam Strachan was most possibly the most infuriating man she had ever laid eyes upon, including the likes of Michael Spence, she couldn't stop the rush of _something_ that went through her whenever he voiced his love for their daughter.

"She misses you too," Connie responded softly. _I miss you_ , she almost added but stopped herself just in time. Now she was very aware of Zoe looking right at her.

She listened as Sam went through a list of dates he _could_ fly over to Holby, most of which she shot down because they just weren't convenient for her. As always, they were struggling to find middle ground, when Sam suddenly started talking about the last time he visited her and Grace, a couple of months back.

They had gone out to celebrate New Year's Eve together in London which was no easy feat considering the fact that they'd dragged their six-year-old daughter out into the cold with them but once the fireworks started going off, she'd settled down.

For Connie, it had been bittersweet. She'd long since waved goodbye to the miserable Peckham girl and her long-suffering mother but the death of her father had meant the end of her role as the daughter in the mother, father, daughter unit. Spending New Year's with Sam and Grace had reminded her, ever so briefly, of those rare happy family moments Connie Chase had experienced with her parents. It hadn't been real, it'd been an illusion at best, but it'd been something. Most importantly, it'd made Grace Beauchamp Strachan, the daughter of yet another mother, father, daughter unit, happy. And in the end, that was all that mattered.

"We could have... fun again..." Sam spoke suggestively, snapping Connie out of her reverie.

While she'd been recalling the events of New Year's Eve, her daughter's father had clearly been reminiscing what had happened in the early hours of New Year's Day, after the trio had returned to her late parents' vacant house. Connie felt like a silly schoolgirl what with the butterflies fluttering away in her stomach as well as blood rushing to her cheeks.

She turned towards the other woman in the room just in time to catch the comical look she was receiving. Upon being caught, Zoe had the decency to blush, turning her attention back to her computer screen while Connie straightened up - she had no idea when she'd gotten so comfy on the sofa - and cleared her throat.

"Don't get ahead of yourself," she said firmly, mentally telling herself to calm down. She should have known that Sam would try to get a rise out of her sooner or later. He just couldn't help himself. "I think you should wait until her birthday. She'll appreciate that more, and it's only a couple of weeks after Easter."

"Well-"

Connie had no desire to listen to him speak any further. "I'm sure your lunch break's over by now and some bimbo nurse needs you to help her with something so bye!"

After hanging up, Connie sighed. She'd sounded so childish just then but, luckily, Zoe seemed very invested in whatever she was doing on the computer. What was it about Sam Strachan that evoked so many emotions in the ever elusive Connie Beauchamp and thus made her behave _that_ way? She didn't know. Maybe she'd never know.

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 **A/N: Lol, I don't think that Zoe wouldn't be able to concentrate if Connie's phone went off in the office - you can hear phones going off all the time in this show - but I just had to put that in! I should probably also mention that I am not calling nurses bimboes, my own mother is a nurse, but we all know Sam's history with nurses.**


	2. Only the Lonely

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys. Guest with the longest review (lol, some names would be nice guys!), you've basically predicted what will happen.** **I wrote about five chapters of this 'story' but thought I'd brush them up a little bit before posting them because I did write them over a year ago.**

 **There's something else I want to address. From what I understand, in _Casualty_ , Grace's age seems to have been bumped up a bit to make her two or three years older. I believe she's described as nine in 2014, ten in 2016, and eleven/twelve (not sure which) in 2017. When I wrote this, I didn't realise that since I was going by the fact that she was born in 2007 in _Holby City_. I've just decided to stick to my guns and keep her as a May 2007 baby, making her six/seven in series 28 of _Casualty (2014)._ Since this doesn't go past series 28, or even to the end of series 28, I don't think it really matters.**

 **This chapter is set sometime after S28E33 'Only the Lonely' but before the next one, I guess. Just to warn you, this chapter ends in a sort of strange cliffhanger which is never really resolved in the following chapters. I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this. Now that I've got that out of the way, enjoy!**

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"Mummy!"

Connie groaned, rolling over to see none other than Miss Beauchamp Strachan standing at the side of her bed, arms crossed, staring down at her. It was like looking in a mirror albeit one that took you forty years into the past.

"What is it, sweetheart?" she muttered in askance, hoping her daughter wouldn't demand the impossible. She had hoped to get some proper sleep on her day off but alas, it wasn't meant to be.

"I want to call Daddy."

"Daddy?" Connie repeated dumbly, still half asleep. "Whose dad? My dad-"

"Not _your_ dad," the six-year-old mini-me testily interrupted, "I'm talking about _my_ dad!"

That statement caught Connie's attention. She slowly sat up, looking up to see Grace rolling her eyes. She didn't know whether to find her daughter's behaviour worrying or amusing. The kid seemed to have skipped her pre-teens and become a teenager all in the space of a few months.

"You can't call Daddy now, baby," Connie said gently, rubbing her eyes as she spoke. Letting out a yawn, she quickly glanced at her clock which read 06:06 before adding, "It's only 1 A.M. in New York."

Grace deflated considerably before stomping out of the room, leaving a very confused mother in her wake. Despite her young age, the almost seven-year-old knew about the time difference between New York and Holby and was well aware that Sam wouldn't be awake until around 10 A.M. UK time. Connie always obliged with Grace's requests to call Sam - he was her dad, after all, and Connie was all too familiar with the father-daughter dynamic - but Grace had never before asked (let alone demanded!) to speak to him at such an inopportune time.

Connie slumped back into the pillows, thanking the stars that she hadn't given Grace a mobile yet. She knew how much Sam liked his beauty sleep.

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Mother and daughter had breakfast together in silence, the latter looking to be in deep thought while the former, ever a workaholic, thought about how the E.D. was being run on her day off. The consultant had no doubt that the some of the staff, especially the Clinical Lead, were rejoicing in her absence and running the place exactly how she didn't want them to. While she had won over some of her colleagues, namely Lily Chao and Robyn Miller, she still had a long way to go in proving herself to the team. She knew she had everyone's respect, it was kind of hard not to when one was a top cardiothoracic surgeon, but Charlie Fairhead didn't quite trust her yet, and he wasn't the only one. She'd told Lily that this job wasn't all about making friends, and she was right, but even she couldn't become a leader without having her team's trust first. Just a little longer, she told herself, and she'd be Clinical Lead, moving one step closer towards reaching her ultimate goal.

Getting up to wash her cereal bowl, Connie turned her attention back to her daughter who hadn't said a word since asking, rather demanding, to speak to her father. The fact that she was just sitting there and brooding was strange in itself; Grace was never shy at making her displeasure known, not only to her mother but to everyone around her. Then again, maybe this was just how she dealt with things now. Connie realised, with horror, that she wouldn't know because she hadn't really had a proper conversation with Grace since her return to Holby City Hospital. Remembering what happened the last time she neglected Grace in favour of her work, a horrible incident six years ago that she suspected Sam never forgave her for (she never forgave herself either), she dried her hands and made her way over to her daughter.

"So, Gracie, how's school?" Connie asked, sitting back down in her seat across from Grace.

"It's the Easter holidays," Grace replied, deadpan, without even looking up, eyes trained onto the half-full cereal bowl in front of her. Connie felt slightly embarrassed, _of course it was the Easter holidays_ , and vaguely remembered her father's sidepiece telling her she had her mother's tongue after she'd delivered a similarly snarky remark. She wondered what the woman would have to say about Grace. The corners of her lips twitched; she knew exactly what the woman would say.

Pushing aside the embarrassment, she wondered if maybe Grace wasn't hungry or wasn't feeling well. She had gone to her friend's house yesterday, maybe she'd caught something from someone there? But then again, the doctor in Connie couldn't see any telltale signs of illness.

"How are your friends? You went over to see one of them yesterday, didn't you?" she tried again, hoping for a longer answer than the one she'd just received.

"Chrissie," Grace supplied. Connie wrinkled her nose at the name. "Yeah, she's fine..." Connie nodded, noticing that Grace looked a little upset. "Her mum had another baby so now she's finally got a brother."

"Oh?" Connie let out, not expecting that. She sometimes forgot that the mothers (and some fathers) of Grace's classmates were several years younger than her. They were probably around the same age she'd been when she had Grace, or younger, whereas she was nearing the end of _that_ journey.

"Her dad works in America too you know, but not in New York like Daddy. And he's not a doctor," Grace said this as if being a doctor was the be all and end all of life. She'd have to do something about that. "Chrissie's mum has a baby after every time her dad comes and visits them."

"Wh- What?" Connie almost hissed, her eyes wide with disbelief. _Every_ time. This was either a six/seven year old's exaggeration or her father only visited his family once every few years. "Did Chrissie tell you that?!"

"Duh," Grace answered shortly, looking at her mother as if she was stupid. "Her grandad always complains about it. He says her parents aren't responsible."

"Indeed," Connie muttered in agreement with this nameless old man. Had his daughter/son and their partner never heard of birth control? What kind of life was this for their kids who seemingly only saw their father once every few years? Then again, who was she to judge?

Up until his death, her own father had thought she was a piece of work for tricking a young(er) man into fatherhood and even doing everything she could to keep him away from his own child for the first year of her life. Now it was all coming back to bite her in the arse if Grace's desire to call Sam at the crack of dawn was anything to go by.

Connie wondered where this conversation was going when Grace glanced at her, a curious yet shy look on her face, and asked, "Are you going to have a baby?"

It was then that Connie Beauchamp realised exactly why her daughter had been acting strange.

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 **A/N: For those of you who are unaware of what went down with Grace in _Holby City_ , the six-year-old incident I'm referring to is one where Connie ignored several calls from ten-month-old Grace's nanny because she was overly invested in a patient case and determined to prove another consultant wrong. The nanny was actually calling about Grace falling down the stairs. Grace was rushed to the hospital, had to have lung surgery (not sure why) and almost died. Around the same time, Connie and Sam had an argument where they insulted each other's parenting skills and the latter (who had cancer) collapsed due to sepsis. I specifically remember a scene where Sam and Grace were recovering in the same hospital room and Connie was just helplessly pacing the room. It was an emotional few episodes. Anyway, I hope I recalled all that correctly - I watched those episodes over a year ago - and feel free to correct me if I didn't.**


	3. Who Cares? - Thursday

**A/N: I'd like to thank Holly and CasFan for the reviews. Unfortunately, CasFan, you'll have to imagine how Connie reacted to Grace's question at the end of the last chapter but I'm glad that you like the way I've written her (Grace).**

 **Also want to add that if you guys haven't figured it out by now, this is not a conventional story. It's more of a fill in the blanks between some of the episodes. In other words, it's not meant to and will not interfere with canon; everything that happens in these chapters technically could have happened off-screen, no matter how far-fetched some of it seems. Although I've only written halfway into series 28, I might consider writing up until the end of the series for closure.**

 **This chapter is set a day before S28E36 'Who Cares?'. This was originally the first half of the next chapter which I ended up splitting into two just because I felt like it had too many scene breaks for one chapter and it was simply too long!**

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Connie retreated to the bathroom and headed straight for the mirror, surveying her reflection for what seemed like the millionth time in the space of an hour, before cracking a smile, pleased with what she saw. She'd never been a particularly self-conscious woman, not since her Peckham days anyway, but she just couldn't shake her tingling nerves. She felt like a girl waiting for her prom date to come to her doorstep, size up with her father, and whisk her off her feet.

Only a couple of hours ago, she'd been at work, in Zoe's office, locking horns with her Clinical Lead over how the E.D. should be run yet again when she received a much-awaited phone call. It'd all been quite amusing really. The first time the phone rang, she'd been hunched over Zoe's computer, pointing something out to her and explaining why she felt it was inadequate. She'd just ignored the noise, continuing to scrutinise whatever was on the screen and letting the call go to voicemail. Less than five seconds had passed before it started ringing again, and Zoe, who was stood on the side closest to Connie's desk where her mobile was located, had glanced at the screaming device before giving the older woman a pointed look. Connie hadn't been fazed in the slightest, continuing her little tirade when the phone started ringing for the third time in the space of two minutes. She'd paused then, making eye contact with Zoe.

Zoe seemed to have understood and, after a cursory glance at the caller ID, she'd reported that it was Sam. Without meaning to, Connie had brightened considerably and had asked if it was 'just Sam'. (Sometime after he'd moved to New York, she'd changed his name in her contact list from Sam Strachan to just Sam. By that point, he wasn't her registrar 'Mr Strachan' anymore and calling him that no longer felt right.) Zoe had just nodded, a look of scepticism marring her features.

After two minutes of hushed conversation over the phone, Connie had actually cracked a smile, not one of the haughty or smug ones she usually donned, but one of genuine happiness, and informed Zoe that she would be leaving work a little earlier than usual (which happened to be on time) due to a family commitment. Zoe had matter-of-factly told her that she was free to do so although Connie could have sworn it looked as if her Clinical Lead had just realised something.

So here she was, standing in her bathroom, waiting for a certain someone to arrive so that they could drive to Holby Infant School together and pick their little princess up.

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Suffice to say, opening the door to Sam Strachan standing on her doorstep evoked the very rush of emotions Connie had expected. Her heart literally leapt at the sight of him and she desperately tried to still her nerves, putting on that smug smile of hers. There was no way she was letting him know how badly his presence, how badly he, affected her.

"Sam," she forced out calmly, secretly relishing the manner in which he was obviously checking her out. She did the same, noting that he didn't look all that different from when he was last in the UK.

For a man in his early forties, he still had it. She had no doubt he made all of the nurses swoon with his toxic charm, and wondered if he was bedding his current (female) boss as well. She dismissed the little flare of jealousy that went through her at that thought. He wasn't hers and never had been, not even when they'd been sleeping together in the months leading up to her getting pregnant. As if that was going to change now. As if she wanted it to.

"Connie," he said airily, an amused twinkle in his eyes. Already, Connie could feel the warmth giving way to the irritation, wondering what exactly it was going through her obnoxious former lover's mind. He answered that soon enough. "Should we go and pick Grace up now?" he questioned, tilting his head to the side before adding, "That is if you're done staring..."

She pursed her lips, trying not to rise to the bait as he winked at her. That was him throwing the gauntlet down and she knew it. The competitive streak in their relationship had always been there from the very beginning, even before their relationship had transgressed beyond the workplace, and had (not surprisingly) withstood the years of geographical distance between them. It felt as if he'd never left at all - as if they were still the Ice Queen Clinical Lead of Darwin and her philanderer registrar - and as if they were still competing, only this time, over their mutual attraction rather than work. In true Connie Beauchamp fashion, she wasn't going to let him win.

Stepping closer to him and practically invading his personal space - not as if they ever respected each other's personal space anyway - she looked up at him and said, "Sorry, I couldn't help it." He raised an eyebrow at that, seemingly unable to believe that she admitted it, before looking smug, clearly thinking that he'd won. She reached a hand up into his hair, saying, "You have something in your hair, after all." As she pretended to brush something out of his hair, she noticed his ever-present smirk falter a bit and had to bite back a giggle.

Grabbing the door handle behind her, she pulled the door to a close, bringing her closer to Sam in the process. The pair of them were almost nose to nose, staring each other in the eyes as if they were daring the other to back down. It was another contest between them, naturally, but that didn't stop the wild palpitations of her heart or stop his eyes from flickering between her eyes and her lips. The sound of footsteps and revving engines reminded Connie that they were standing outside, on her doorstep, easily visible to other parents leaving their homes for the school run. Stepping back, she severed eye contact, breaking the spell between them. Sam blinked, clearing his throat before motioning for her to lead the way.

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The next few hours had gone relatively smoothly, Connie and Sam managing to keep their flirt-fights to a minimum in the presence of their daughter. Since Grace was unfortunate enough to have her birthday fall on a Thursday this year, they had all agreed on an afternoon in the park before going back home for a pizza and a movie. Connie had put up a fight over getting pizza since Grace was already going to have pizza for her weekend birthday bash with her friends but had given in when she realised the situation would escalate into a fight of epic proportion if the seven-year-old didn't get exactly what she wanted. Personal warring with Sam aside, Grace got very little quality time with her father as it was and Connie didn't want to ruin that over something as trivial as pizza. She'd just have to limit the amount of pizza Grace would get at her party on Saturday instead.

The three of them had sat together on the settee in Connie's living room, Grace snuggled up against her father, their eyes glued to the screen as the events of _Star Wars_ played out. Sam had cringed when Leia Organa gave Luke Skywalker a good luck kiss for the second time.

Appearing very disturbed, he'd looked over at Connie who was sat on Grace's other side and had whispered, "Are you sure this _isn't_ the one with the most incest?"

"Definitely," she'd whispered back, glad that his query had flown over their daughter's head. The last thing she'd needed was the seven-year-old asking more embarrassing questions that she couldn't or wouldn't answer. Knowing Sam, he'd have spurred Grace on just to see her mother squirm and thus earn himself a point in their ongoing eight-year psychological war.

On a lighter note, she'd bit back a laugh as she'd tried to imagine Sam's reaction to the incestuous kisses yet to come in _The Empire Strikes Back_. She couldn't believe he had never watched a single _Star Wars_ film until today but maybe that was a good thing where the prequels were concerned. She'd briefly entertained the thought of this becoming their thing, her introducing the father-daughter pair to the Star Wars films one by one, especially since she'd heard there was a new trilogy on the way. If only he didn't happen to live three thousand miles away...

After the film had finished, Grace had fallen asleep and Sam had carried her upstairs, careful not to wake her, as Connie remained downstairs and cleaned up. Connie was just drinking some water when she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. She couldn't remember the last time there was a man in her house let alone one who used the stairs. She was lonely by choice, she knew that, but it didn't stop her from occasionally wishing she had someone (besides just Grace) to share a home with. Someone who didn't live on another continent or come with the baggage of being the father of her wonderful yet emotionally troubled child. She knew she was at an impasse, though, because no matter what was between them, Sam would never come back to the UK, she would never relocate to the US, and Grace would never accept her mother being in a relationship with anyone other than her father.

In a way, Connie herself was responsible for her situation. Following her conversation with Grace about two weeks prior, it was quite evident that her naive daughter perceived her relationship with Sam to be the same as that of Chrissie's parents; a long distance mess where the man worked abroad while the woman brought their child(ren) up with actual physical contact few and far between. Despite knowing how damaging keeping quiet would be to her relationship with Grace, in the long run, Connie simply didn't have the heart to shatter the girl's illusion just yet. Grace was the only one who had the power to truly hurt Connie, to break her heart to the point of no repair, and that scared her beyond measure. She dreaded the day she'd have to come out and tell her daughter exactly what the truth was.

Turning away from the sink, Connie noticed Sam standing in the kitchen doorway and asked, "Do you want something to drink?"

"No thanks," he replied, coming to join her at the counter as she put the kettle on. She needed her peppermint tea if she wanted to fit enough sleep in before work the next day, especially if she wanted to succeed in her newest plan to gain the upper hand against her Clinical Lead.

"What are you smiling about?" Sam pried, his eyebrow raised in an almost comical manner. Connie looked up at him in surprise, having not realised she'd been smiling in the first place.

"It's a secret," she responded coyly, looking over at the kettle as it clicked. She noticed his proximity to her and could feel the tension from earlier in the day seeping back into the atmosphere. Now that Grace wasn't here to effectively chaperone them, anything could happen, and Connie wasn't sure she wanted to give in to Sam this easily, especially when he was already so cocky about their last encounter.

He quietly watched her as she cautiously poured the kettle's boiling water into her favourite 'BEST Mummy!' mug, seemingly contemplating something. She could feel his gaze burning into her and tried to ignore the jolts of excitement running through her. She knew that he was going back to his parents' place tonight and she did not intend to engage in a quickie with him. Tonight was about their daughter, not about their neverending slew of several night stands.

"I didn't get the chance to ask after Kieron earlier. How's he doing?" she inquired nonchalantly, not meeting his eyes for fear of what would happen, what she would _feel_ , if she did.

"He's doing well for himself," he answered evenly. Connie glanced at him to see that he was quietly deliberating over something and wondered what was on his mind. Sam usually had a lot more to say to her, speaking freely when Grace wasn't around, but he was acting so unlike himself. "He'd like to see Grace again."

"He's always welcome here," she said, carefully choosing her words. By all means, Kieron could come to the UK to see his sister but under no circumstances could Grace go to the US.

To this day, Grace had never been to the US, for one reason alone: Connie didn't trust Sam not to try something to steal her daughter away from her. She knew it was selfish considering everything she did to keep father and daughter apart from the moment the latter was born but she couldn't help it. Yes, Grace was Sam's only daughter (as far as Connie knew) but she was Connie's only child. Sam had his parents and Kieron but Connie only had Grace. She'd be lost without her.

"I was just thinking..." he began, only to be interrupted by her.

"Oh dear," she cut in sarcastically, unable to stop herself. Despite the years of distance between them, she never passed up a chance to tease him.

He looked less than impressed, rolling his eyes at the smirk on her face before continuing, "it'd be great if I could take Grace to lunch on Saturday and spend some more time with her before leaving for the airport. You could pick her up from my parents after you're done sorting things out for her party."

Now it was Connie who cocked an eyebrow up, piercing him with her scrutinising gaze. "Is that it?"

"Yes," he answered firmly, holding her gaze. He'd never been disgruntled or intimidated by her renowned Ice Queen glares and stares, something that she admired and loathed about him in equal measure.

"Well then, yes, you can take her on Saturday," she informed, her heart swelling when his face lit up at her response. "Just don't burn yourself out. You've got her tomorrow as well, after school; I've got somewhere to be after work."

"Another secret?" he prompted, giving her an amused but knowing look. For the millionth time that day, she fought back a smile.

"You're still a quick learner, I see," she quipped, slowly stirring her hot cup of tea. Recalling his odd behaviour throughout the day, she decided to confront him. "I thought you were going to tell me something serious. I mean ever since Grace fell asleep, you've been mysteriously quiet."

"Have I?" he questioned, putting on a good show of having no idea what she was talking about. Now she was sure that there was something else going on but, rather frustratingly, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. He inched closer to her. "You like mysterious men, don't you?"

"I know you, Sam," she said, ignoring his attempt at flirting but not moving away from him, appearing unfazed even though she wasn't. "I know you're hiding something from me. Some kind of devilish plan?"

"You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Aren't you conspiring against your current Clinical Lead? Trying to get her to trust you so you can find out all of her secrets and exploit them?"

"The only one cooking up conspiracies here is you," she declared shortly, forcing herself to maintain her cool, calm and collected facade when all she really wanted to do was react. She stopped stirring her tea and walked away from him to dispose of the teabag, scowling when she knew he couldn't see her.

Despite her outward appearance of calm, Connie was beyond annoyed by how well Sam knew her. While she was careful to mask the extent of her ambition at work, she knew that some of her colleagues were well aware that she was after Zoe's position, but none of them had even guessed, let alone known for sure her plan to achieve that.

However, Sam was a whole other story. He knew her well, so infuriatingly well, that she was left feeling completely and utterly vulnerable whenever said fact came to light. She remembered one instance much more clearly than she wished to: his words 'Connie attacks, Connie blames' following that harrowing incident six years ago. The words had rattled her so much that she'd unreservedly lashed out at him and hurt him so badly that her words alone had sent him into septic shock (as a medic, she knew this wasn't true, but as a guilt-ridden woman, it was true enough). While she hadn't appreciated him calling her a bitch, and rightly so, she'd deeply regretted the way she'd handled the entire situation. Never again, she'd promised herself. Never again would she hit below the belt like that, and never again would she show him just how much his knowledge of her _ways_ affected her. That was the only reason she was reigning herself in right now, right in this very moment.

She returned to the counter, standing even closer to him than she had been before, leaving less than a few inches between them. "You should get going, Sam," she said curtly, taking a sip of her tea as she looked directly into his eyes.

"You sure you don't want me here?" he asked, his gaze not so subtly drifting towards her lips before returning to meet her own, slowly closing in on the space between them. All Connie needed to do was lean in, and they'd be on their way to sexual encounter number ninety - not that she was counting - but she managed to control her raging hormones enough not to make that mistake.

Remaining close to him but not moving any closer, she turned slightly away from him, taking a long sip of her tea, practically feeling Sam squirm in anticipation. Or impatience. Probably a mixture of both. Putting her half-empty mug down, she peered back up into those lust laden eyes and finally spoke. "I don't _want_ Audrey Strachan up in my face, in the middle of the night, demanding to know where her son is."

"Scared of my mother, Mrs Beauchamp?"

"No, I just have far more important things to attend to than entertaining her son."

Seemingly knowing when he'd lost a battle, Sam put his arms up in mock surrender and backed off. Connie smiled, basking in the knowledge that she'd had the last word once again when Sam quickly and unexpectedly dropped his arms and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Taken by surprise, she just stood there, blinking slowly, her eyes following him as he sauntered towards her front door.

Gripping the door handle, he paused and glanced back at her. "See you later, Connie," he said huskily, giving her a lingering once over before disappearing. The door closed softly behind him, leaving a flustered Deputy Clinical Lead in his wake.

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 **A/N: What do you all think?**


	4. Who Cares? - Friday and Saturday

**A/N: I know, I know! I was gone a while! This chapter was meant to go up weeks ago and has been untouched since, but life got in the way. Long story short, I snapped my glasses and was basically blind for ages. I can't wear my contact lenses for long and had to use them for work rather than recreation.**

 **Thanks for the reviews. I'm glad that the sexual tension came across well. Sadly, this chapter has little to none. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!**

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After a long day at work and an evening of drinking with her Clinical Lead, Connie finally reached home and pulled up into her driveway. Shutting the engine off, she peered outside and noticed that although the downstairs lights were all off, her bedroom light was on. She raised an eyebrow, figuring that Sam, who'd agreed to take care of Grace after she finished school for the day, had made himself at home. Rolling her eyes at his audacity, she got out of her car and trudged up to the front door of her home sweet home.

Despite drinking with Zoe until she got severely drunk, Connie herself had managed to remain sober by drinking extra slowly and thus had required fewer refills. She thanked her lucky stars that the younger woman hadn't really picked up on her duplicity and had kept on drinking, spilling all of her secrets just as she (and Sam) had predicted. Well, not _all_ of her secrets. Zoe had started to talk about some mystery man of hers but had stopped short of revealing his name, leaving Connie to wonder just who was important enough for Zoe to keep quiet about in spite of being so drunk that she'd revealed everything else. In the end, though, Connie had acquired all of the ammunition she needed and didn't push for more. Even she was above taking a woman down by snatching her man away from her.

Yawning inaudibly and blinking rapidly to stay awake, Connie crept upstairs in an effort not to wake anyone up. Judging from the silence, her daughter had long since gone to bed and said daughter's father had claimed the master bedroom as his own. Gently pushing her bedroom door open, Connie found that she was correct; Sam was slumped against the headboard of her bed, fast asleep. She briefly considered waking him up and sending him to his parents' place but her motherly desires forced her to leave him be and head off to Grace's room instead.

Following her usual nightly routine of checking over her young daughter and getting ready for bed, Connie padded out of her ensuite and back into her room, barely sparing a glance towards her bed as she picked up the designer jacket she'd unceremoniously dumped on it earlier. Hanging the jacket up in her wardrobe, she rubbed her eyes, asking herself where she'd left her Louis Vuitton handbag.

"Looking for something?"

She almost jumped at the voice, spinning around to see Sam wide awake, holding her handbag up and practically waving it at her. Slightly buzzed from the drinks, she just stood there, bleary-eyed, as he got up from her bed and strode towards her, exuding a ridiculous amount of confidence for someone who had just been snoring outrageously mere minutes ago. Showing his usual lack of regard for her personal space, he stopped right in front of her, snaking his arm around her to place her most prized possession, second only to her many pairs of Louboutins, on the shelf behind her. Shivering at his arm brushing against her waist as he pulled it back, she doubted that he'd been asleep at all now that she was getting a close look at his face.

"Thank you," she said, holding his gaze as she moved the handbag to the correct shelf before closing the wardrobe behind her.

"You're welcome," he replied smoothly, his none too weary eyes not so subtly running up and down her scantily clad figure. Being the ultimate seductress that she was, the corners of her lips curled up at the attention he was bestowing upon her.

"So, was she any trouble?" she asked, referring to the little firecracker sleeping in the adjacent room.

"No more than I expected from Connie Beauchamp's daughter," he replied, drawing closer to her, appearing to be amused at something. She narrowed her eyes at him, wondering what he was trying to get at. All of Grace's troublemaking antics were down to him, not her. She was _sure_ of that.

"Yes, well, she inherited all of the good attributes from me," she quipped proudly, crossing her arms. Taking a step towards him and fixing him with a stare, she said, "As for her certain disregard for rules and etiquette... I can't begin to _think_ of where she got that from."

They both smiled small at that one, but Sam wasted no time in jumping to defend himself. "Hey, don't look at me. Kieron never flouts rules."

Connie's smile faltered for a split second at the mention of her baby daddy's firstborn. "No thanks to you, no doubt," she quickly retorted, hoping that he hadn't picked up on her momentary change of facial expression.

It wasn't that she had a problem with Kieron, she really didn't, but sometimes she just couldn't help but think of the young man's mother, Ms Patel, and the nature of her relationship with Sam. After all, if he was still sleeping with one baby momma, he could easily still be sleeping with the other. Connie knew that it was none of her business but the nagging doubt did gnaw at her from time to time. She hated the fact that it bothered her so; they weren't teenagers, for God's sake.

"So, how was your night?"

Connie lost her train of thought, looking up at Sam and wondering when he had gotten so close. His face was mere inches from hers, and he was gazing at her so intensely that she found herself unable - and unwanting - to look away.

"The night's only just begun..." she trailed off, leaning forward to close the gap between them.

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The morning after, Connie was not surprised to wake up with Sam in her bed. This happened at least once every time he was in the UK for a custody visit; it was almost _normal_ (well, as normal as their 'relationship' was ever going to get). She was surprised, though, to see that he was awake. Over the last eight years of occasionally sleeping in the same bed, she had always managed to wake up well before him and escape the awkwardness of facing him, stark naked, first thing in the morning. To her dismay, she realised that it was obviously going to be different this morning.

Since he was lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, she deduced that he hadn't noticed her eyes flutter open. She closed her eyes again, contemplating what to do. While she wasn't exactly an early riser on her rare days off, she did have a list of things to do today which included preparing for Grace's afternoon birthday party. Considering the fact that dealing with a bunch of seven-year-olds for a number of hours was going to drain her, staying in bed a little longer under the pretence of sleep wouldn't hurt. That way, she could just wait for Sam to get up first. Unfortunately for her, it didn't seem like he intended to get up anytime soon. She couldn't even feel any movement from him through her mattress. If it wasn't for the sound of his breathing, she'd have thought him dead.

As always, her thoughts soon turned to Grace. Grace, the same girl who sometimes stormed into her room when she desperately wanted something from her mother, whether it was food or access to her father. Forgetting her plan to feign sleep in front of the father of said child, Connie's eyes shot open as she groaned aloud, fearing that her daughter had already entered her (stupidly) unlocked room and had seen her not-together-but-still-occasionally-sleeping-together parents sharing a bed. While it was unlikely that Grace would leave the room without waking Connie up, she could have just decided to leave quietly so as to not disturb her father. Connie wouldn't put it past her. With time, the seven-year-old was turning out to be quite the daddy's girl.

Connie fought the urge to hide her face away from Sam like a shy virgin as he turned his head to look at her. Taking in the bags under his weary eyes, she wondered if he'd actually slept at all last night. It would certainly explain why he, a man who slept in whenever he had the opportunity to, was awake _before_ her.

"What's wrong?" he questioned tiredly, "Upset that I beat you in the race to wake up first?"

"Oh please," she began derisively, almost grateful to him for steering her towards their familiar, light-hearted and _safe_ flirt-fight dynamic. "Only you could be upset about something as trivial as that..."

"Well, what is it then?" he pressed, turning on his side to face her and propping his head up on his elbow, sounding genuinely interested in what she had to say. She could have sworn that he even seemed a little concerned, reminding her of his stifling concern for their unborn daughter all those years ago. She may have softened up somewhere down the line but, for the most part, she still didn't react well to people worrying about her.

"I think Grace saw us," she divulged with a sigh. "She has a habit of bursting into my room whenever she wakes up before me. I'm worried that she did just that while we were both still sleeping."

Sam merely chuckled in response, completely throwing Connie off. She immediately sat up, holding the duvet to her chest and frowning down at him. For once in her life, rather than being angry at him, she was in a state of utter disbelief. She didn't see how what she had just said could possibly be funny. By her reckoning, it was actually rather serious.

"What's so funny?" she asked sharply, deeply disappointed that he found the thought of their young daughter walking in on them funny.

"She definitely did not 'burst' into your room," he answered unabashedly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. She looked at him like he was mad.

"How do you know?" she demanded to know, narrowing her eyes at him.

She thought she saw panic briefly flash through his eyes right before he said, "I would've heard her... I would've heard something." Something in the way he spoke, particularly his voice, told her that he wasn't exactly being truthful but she let it slide... for now.

"It would be impossible to hear anything through all of that monstrous snoring," she remarked, smirking at him as he shot up into a sitting position.

"What snoring?!" he exclaimed, looking affronted. His irritation only served to make her smirk grow wider. As always, she felt satisfied at riling him up. She considered it revenge for him leaving her blushing like a lovestruck schoolgirl in her kitchen the night before the last.

The sound of footsteps down the hallway quickly caught Connie's attention, and she turned away from Sam to look at the door. She sighed in relief as she heard another door open, realising that Grace had headed to the bathroom rather than straight to her mother's room. Maybe there was hope yet. Grateful that Sam hadn't thrown her nightwear to the other side of the room this time around - sadly, she couldn't say the same for his clothes - she picked her silk nightgown and lingerie off the floor and put them on.

Without looking back, she got up and said, "Come downstairs fully dressed." She didn't know who she was fooling. Grace would be able to tell that Daddy spent the night sleeping over but Connie hoped, probably in vain, that the girl wouldn't think to ask where since she knew that Mummy was currently using the guest room as an office.

"Alright milady," Sam replied sarcastically as Connie made her way to the door. "And I definitely do not snore!"

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After Sam went back to his parents' place, Grace in tow, Connie made a start on preparing for Grace's party. Loner nature aside, Connie felt a little guilty about not making enough time for her old friend, Elliot Hope, following her return to Holby and thus invited him over to help her (not that she needed it) while they caught up. The pair of them were currently sorting the party food out while he told her all about the latest scandal to hit Darwin. He'd been reluctant to tell her at first but started to spill everything once she told him that she'd already heard some rumours.

"I can't really say I'm surprised, Elliot," Connie commented, placing seven candles on the chocolate cake in front of her. "This is Jac Naylor we're talking about."

Elliot shrugged, removing freshly baked cookies from the baking tray and placing them on paper plates. "The pair of them turned the whole battle into a free public show. You can guess who had to calm them down."

"You forget who you're talking to," she stated, giving him a pointed look.

"Sam announced his paternity of Grace to the ward she was staying in but these two aired their dirty laundry in front of the whole of Darwin," he countered, shaking his head. "It was very unprofessional."

"That's true," she agreed, pausing as she thought of her daughter. "I never thought I'd say this... but I understand where she's coming from. She just wants her daughter."

Elliot frowned. "But to go to this extent?!"

This time, Connie shrugged. "I can't comment on that; Sam never tried to take Grace from me." _I tried to keep Grace from him_ , she mentally added.

Seemingly happy with her reply, Elliot smiled and turned to Connie. "Speaking of Grace, what's she like? I haven't seen her since..." he trailed off awkwardly, cautiously glancing at her.

Connie pursed her lips, willing herself to push unpleasant memories to the back of her mind. "Since the funeral," she completed his sentence for him. He merely nodded while she took a deep breath, conjuring up a tight forced smile. "Well, she looks like me. She's got my mother's tongue too. Judging by appearance alone, she's me," she described fondly, her smile becoming genuine. "Of course, there's a tiny bit of Strachan about her... especially when it comes to her rebellious nature."

"And how is our young Mr Strachan?" Elliot enquired innocently enough, but Connie got the bizarre feeling that he was teasing her which just seemed impossible.

"Not so young anymore," she answered wryly.

"Getting along?" he pried, apparently very interested in her co-parent, or rather, her relationship with him.

"As mother and father should," she replied evasively, throwing his own words from years ago back at him. He chuckled, apparently recalling the fateful conversation.

Shaking her head at him, Connie decided to check if it was time to pick Grace up from the Strachans yet. As if on cue, her phone began to ring and she scowled, assuming it was the wretched Mrs Strachan herself. After reading the name on the screen, she was, perhaps for the first time in her life, pleased to find that she was wrong.

"Speak of the devil," she muttered, unsure if she was talking to herself or to Elliot, before swiping the receive button.

"Hey," the voice on the other end greeted, sounding somewhat tired. "How are you?"

Connie frowned. "I'm fine..." she answered, warning bells going off in her head. Now she was absolutely sure that Sam had gotten little to no sleep the night before and she couldn't help but wonder what on Earth had kept him up. The pensive look he'd had in his eyes that morning was worrying because when did Sam Strachan actually ever think (outside of work)?

"... I just called to let you know that I'm boarding my flight now," he informed, clearly in a hurry to end the call.

"Sam!" she yelled without thinking, drawing a surprised look from Elliot. She instantly regretted it, racking her brains for something to say. She didn't even know why she'd stopped him; surely she hadn't gotten so soft that she was going to express concern for him? That would wreak havoc on their point-scoring mind games but somehow, it didn't seem to matter right now.

"Yeah...?"

"Um, Elliot says hi..." she said lamely, mentally kicking herself as soon as the words left her mouth. She didn't even want to see Elliot's reaction right now.

"Same to him."

The air suddenly felt so awkward, even more so than when they had woken up together in the morning. It pained her that she found it so difficult to ask him if he was okay but could pretty much do and say everything else to him. Her infallible pride always stopped her from reaching out to him in the past and was still doing so. It was beyond frustrating.

"I hope you have a safe journey," she stated, unable to bring herself her to say what she really wanted to say.

"Thanks... Bye."

"Bye."

As Sam hung up, Connie hoped that Elliot didn't grill her on that weird conversation. Not that Elliot was one of her nosey and gossipy girlfriends, she shuddered at the thought, glad that she didn't have one of those, but he really could be such a worry wart sometimes. He'd been her quasi older brother back at Holby, always her confidant, and to this day, he still was. She just didn't feel like discussing her and Sam's weird relationship with him, something she couldn't even understand herself, let alone explain to someone else.

Fortunately for Connie, she was literally saved by the bell - her doorbell, to be precise. She looked back at Elliot, wondering who it was. Walking up to the door, she hoped that it wasn't one of her daughter's friends who'd decided to show up early. Upon opening the door, she was bombarded by a pint-sized figure.

"Mummy!" Grace exclaimed, hugging Connie like she hadn't seen her in years.

"Hi, sweetie." Connie returned the hug, feeling all warm inside, glad that Grace wasn't so much of a premature teenager just yet. She looked up, sharing an amused look with the man standing behind his granddaughter. "Harry, you really didn't have to go through all the trouble!"

"Nonsense," he replied, waving her off as Grace finally released her. "Grace wanted to see Sam off at the airport so I thought I might as well drop her off here while I was at it."

"Is that Elliot?" Grace suddenly asked, pointing at the Clinical Lead of Darwin standing in the hallway. "The one that saw me as a baby?"

"Hello, Grace," Elliot said, waving at her.

"Don't point; it's rude," Connie reprimanded gently, putting the offending finger down. "Yes, that's him."

Grace, never the shy one, ran over to Elliot as if they were old friends and dragged him into the living room. "Wow!" she exclaimed, making both Connie and Harry laugh in the hallway.

"Elliot? The one you and Sam worked with?" Harry questioned. Connie nodded, scanning the car next to hers in the driveway for any sign of Audrey Strachan, feeling satisfied when she found none.

"Why don't you come inside and stay a while? I'll introduce him to you," she offered, stepping aside to make way for him. He accepted, walking inside and giving his jacket to her when she gestured for it.

As she closed the door behind her and hung Harry's jacket up in the hallway, Connie found herself thinking of Sam once more. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something very wrong with him. It was all too easy to recall his bout of cancer and sepsis, and how she'd lived in fear each and every day until he told her he'd gone into remission. Phone still in her hands, she quickly went to the messages section, composing a new message and hitting send before she lost her nerve.

 _'Are you okay?'_

She followed Harry into the living room, not expecting Sam to reply until much later, if at all. She was proven wrong when her phone dinged mere seconds later.

 _'I'm fine.'_

An immense sense of relief flowed through her as she read his reply and she released a breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. He was okay... Her _family_ was okay.

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 **A/N: Ugh, this was cheesy.**

 **I am aware that Connie was over probably over the legal limit but... whatever! Sorry if it felt anticlimactic but I didn't feel like writing the dirty deed; you will just have to imagine what happened ;) As for Kieron's mother, she was never really mentioned (?) so I assumed that she's still alive and well. Same goes for Sam's father; I remember Sam being absent from a couple of episodes due to a family bereavement but since they never specified who (I think?), anything goes. Since Elliot has appeared in Casualty once or twice, I'm not labelling this as a crossover. Besides, this is his only feature thus far.**

 **Woah, I guess the above paragraph makes me appear very defensive...**


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